When love beckons

Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

Roderic Penn

I stood at my mother’s open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule. While the priest’s voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?" When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone—he brought Charla with him. He claimed she’d had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child." He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me. "He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect. Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards.

Modern Crime Revenge

Download the Book on the App

"He just gets carried away" Derek's mother protested weakly. "He doesn't know what he really needs".

Bobby's brow's rose " He seems to know exactly what he needs" he said in his driest voice. "Big breast, long legs and a wet-lipped simper those were Derek's criteria".

Bobby Packer looked at his aunt with affection and exasperation "not again!"

She bridled "it's not Derek's fault! He just.........".

"An idiot when it comes to women" Bobby supplied more than a little tersely. "He falls violently in lust with the most unsuitable female in sight, showers her with gifts, promises her undying love, then wakes up one morning and realizes he has nothing in common with her. Worse than that, she knows nothing about computers, which means he can't even hold a conversation with her. So he dumps her and she goes off and wails tearfully and lucratively to the media. Temporarily anyway, why are you so concerned this time?".

"Bobby you of all people! Know perfectly well he's just had a well publicized payout on his internet firm more than twenty million dollars" Doris Packer hesitate, before saying in rush "And she's not his usual type. To start off with she's older than he is, and she's not a model or a game show hostess or a beauty contest winner"

Bobby's black brow's met in a frown" So you think she's after the money"

"Derek has a reputation for rather foolish generosity" his mother said unwillingly "What evidence have you got that she's a shark?" .

Not for the first time Doris Packer decided it was positively sinful that as well has being brilliant and inordinately successful, Bobby should look like something out of a fantasy six foot three, shoulders big enough for a couple of women to cry on, and the sort of Lean, potent vitality that stopped any woman's breath.

Most men would have been more than content with that. But Bobby also had perfect features, a mouth to send shivers down ever her spine, and grey eyes that were a stunning contrast to olive skin and sable hair.

Derek was good looking, but not even a doting mother's bias would allow her put him in Bobbys class.

She thrust a photograph at her nephew "look" She watched that sexy , sculpted mouth compress and his eyes narrow into ice chips as he scanned the image.

Finally he looked up " She's definitely a change from Derek's usual inamoratas . Who is she?".

"Miya Claire Martin's".

"Miya?".

"Well, that's what she calls herself" His aunt dismissed the pretentious name with a curled lip. "She's at least five years older than Derek, and you'll notice she isn't hanging onto or gazing worshipfully or seductively into his eyes" Doris pointed out, adding, "And he speaks differently about her". "So what is the problem?" Bobby was fond of the aunt who'd brought him up after his parents died, but he deplored her fierce, overprotective love for her only child.He had no illusions about his cousin; Derek was spoilt.

His open good looks not to mention his assets meant that most women succumbed to his laid back approaches. Because he'd never had to work for a woman's notice he'd probably been intrigued by the cool, touch me not air of the one in the photograph.

A little impatiently he said, "perhaps this time he's found a normal woman, one he can actually have a conversation with".

"Do you consider someone whose father was the town drunk normal?"

"That's hardly her fault".

She grimaced "I know that, but you have to admit she probably has a serious issues".

Read Now